


got a fairytale in my heart

by mimosaeyes



Series: (and my pulses start) cathedrals in my heart [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Day One, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, prompt: firsts, seriously I cringed at my own cheese here, victuuriweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimosaeyes/pseuds/mimosaeyes
Summary: They recharge; they rejuvenate. And of course, they skate.Post-S1 downtime for our three figure skating sons, ending with sweet shippiness. For Victuuri Week on tumblr, prompts: “firsts”, “surprises”, “confessions”.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shelter by Dermot Kennedy.

At least for a few days more, they have Hasetsu Ice Castle to themselves in the early morning, before opening time. Although the figure skating world is still in raptures over the exceptional performances of both the Russian and Japanese Yuri’s at the Grand Prix Final, through some deceptively worded responses to reporters’ questions, Viktor manages to suggest that they will be anywhere but back where they started out together. Back where the Katsuki family welcomes them with celebratory bowls of katsudon and a discreetly reserved section of the hot springs. Back where, quietly, they can carve out a breathing space from the clamour and distraction of the public spotlight.

Yurio spends his days skulking about town, pretending not to be taken in by its charms even though he whips out his phone to show pictures to anyone who even approaches asking what he’s been up to. Viktor and Yuuri disappear for hours together, showing up much later with grease stains on their legs from riding a rented tandem bicycle, or sunburned skin after falling asleep on the beach. (Sometimes the shape of their tan lines is hard to explain... At least their blushing doesn’t show up much under the sunburn.) Each morning at the breakfast table, Makkachin impatiently licks their feet, impatient to set off on another adventure.

They recharge; they rejuvenate. And of course, they skate.

Oh, how they skate. Without the pressure of competition, the ice becomes a playground: Yuuri can laugh it off when he doesn’t quite stick a landing, instead of gritting his teeth and doing it again. He can pull silly faces at Yuuko’s triplets when they manage to sneak past their mother to sit in on the private ice time. Furtively at first, as though guilty, Yurio can dial back on the demands he’s been making of his still developing body, slipping in the odd quadruple but never forcing himself up to the muscles-shaking, brink-of-collapse intensity of his free skate routine.  

They take it in turns to show off for each other, less like seasoned professionals and more like children exclaiming, _hey hey, look what I can do!_

And for the first time in over a year, Viktor takes to the ice and lets his body choreograph instead of his mind.

The other two watch from the side of the rink when he starts getting into it, or leave the ice entirely to watch from the stands. But even though his movements are as self-assured as ever, Viktor skates like he’s barely aware of their gazes on him.

He moves lightly, improvising and experimenting. He doesn’t finish step sequences or attempt all the jumps in the right order. It’s drafts and notions instead, trailing one after the other with barely a pause in between. Yuuri watches Viktor explore again, _wander_ again, and it takes his breath away. Even Yurio is subdued as he unplugs his iPod, leaving only the rhythm Viktor is dancing to, and departs to grab a drink — but not before stopping next to Yuuri and muttering, “I’ve never seen Viktor like this.”

The pressure, undiscussed out loud but always lurking in the back of his mind, is on the oldest skater of the three to create a stunning programme with which to make his return. It also needs to be manageable for someone increasingly feeling his age in a sport with mayfly shelf life. 

And yet time dilates this morning, indulging him. A beam of sunlight sneaks in through a window cut high into the wall, and briefly gilds Viktor’s silvery hair as he spins past. Yuuri reminds himself to exhale. Inhale.

Finally, after idly repeating a complex series of steps for a while, elaborating on it with each iteration, Viktor glides to a stop, one arm extended as though in preparation for a jump that he does not start. Lost in his own world, by coincidence he’s pointing to Yuuri, the way Yuuri always did at Viktor at the end of his free skate. 

Without consciously deciding to do so, Yuuri slips off his guards and skates serenely over to his — boyfriend? More than boyfriend. His lover, his partner, his coach, his loyal supporter, his idol. Above all, his. He registers only light and the scrape of blades on ice, and the thud of his own heartbeat, just barely grounding him.

Viktor’s eyes flick to his. “Oh, hello,” he greets him in a daze, giving Yuuri a crooked smile.

His skates slip slightly and stutter in a surface rut. Yuuri’s close enough and grasps his forearms, lending him some support.

“That was beautiful,” Yuuri tells him softly. “What were you thinking about?” 

His dark eyes are too honest, too present, but Viktor drinks them in anyway as he considers his reply. 

“Everything,” he tries, testing out how the atmosphere holds up against the weight of the word. His left leg wobbles — an old injury beginning to act up again. How long has he been skating by himself, off in his own world, the way he hasn’t done in so long? The way Yuuri does to quieten his mind, right here on this same ice?

Around his previous rinkmates, Viktor would never let himself falter or show weakness, but it’s different with Yuuri; freeing to simply fold his legs and crumple slowly to the ice.

“Umm. Viktor, are you okay?” 

Hesitant, Yuuri is left standing somewhat awkwardly still holding Viktor’s arm until the latter grabs hold of his hand instead, interlocking their fingers. Then he tugs at Yuuri’s arm insistently until he sits down too.

“You,” Viktor says in a whisper, amending his previous answer. The single word comes out like a confession, like a secret he wants to tuck away in the safety of someone else’s ribcage.

There’s a smile that comes over Yuuri’s face then, one that belongs exclusively to Viktor. His eyebrow quirks up in momentary shock. “Me?” Yuuri repeats, disbelieving. 

“Only you,” Viktor murmurs.

Yuuri reaches forward and touches his hair parting, bowing their heads together.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t think I would write this pairing again. Yet here we are.
> 
> Apologies if OOC. I’m rusty but trying.


End file.
